


[Translation]Prisoner of War

by lecitron, moxiao402



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecitron/pseuds/lecitron, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxiao402/pseuds/moxiao402
Summary: Hello guys,This is a translation for Lecitron's beautiful workhttp://archiveofourown.org/works/5982931/chapters/13749187English is my second language, and this work is not beta'd, please point out any mistakes in the writing. <3Awkward phrasing is a thing, and the original work is amazing!!!Thanks





	[Translation]Prisoner of War

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [俘虜](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982931) by [lecitron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecitron/pseuds/lecitron). 



> Hello guys,  
> This is a translation for Lecitron's beautiful work  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5982931/chapters/13749187  
> English is my second language, and this work is not beta'd, please point out any mistakes in the writing. <3
> 
> Awkward phrasing is a thing, and the original work is amazing!!!  
> Thanks

Two of the best things in life during this era is to be able to eat, and the ability to live. Benedikt always thought this way. It gave him slight comfort and strength when captured then kept in the war. Along with the others, Benedikt was kept within a crowded metal cell, but he didn't think like them. The boy had no time to sob or grief over the longing fear of war.

  
As long as it he wasn't being hanged or beheaded, Benedikt thought nothing worse of being a prisoner. The cities has been at each other's neck for what? He's lost count of time, only just surviving the hell of daylight. Adult men were seen as extinct creatures. They chose to utilise all people who depicted some typical male features, strength and size. Even adolescent boys like Benedikt were recruited by the army. The opposition won, at the near end. They captured a few thousand people. Useful, they described the prisoners, for both war recruitment or slaves. Or it was, anything but death.

  
"My granddad told me, those soldiers are insane... They..... They killed everyone... God we're going to be dead before the end of the day..." Benedikt stared at the sobbing boy with pity, shadowed by the light. They were born in the same year, yet much differ in fate, forced into the army just after turning seventeen of age.

  
Shut up. Benedikt opened his mouth, but mind was distracted by the tempting, thick aroma of food. He gulped the hollowness in his mouth. His stomach rumbled, acid moving. The hazel eyes lit up, searched for the scent's source, a cure, eyes shifted past a tent in the distance, then there was a sudden slash. Straight across his back. The boy's eyes reddened. The skin on his left shoulder bloomed with scarlet. Pain began to spread, weakening the already shaken torso.

  
"Look down!" A voice shouted with anger, possibly was one of those god damn soldier from the last class. The man behind him then slashed the piece of leather across a nearby wooden hitching post, startling him. Benedikt lowered his head, lungs pumped, a drop of tear found its way to the mud puddle next to his feet.

  
The surrounding filled with chit chats, escalating. The soldiers from Dortmund all looked content, he observed the satisfied faces. Food must be ready. May be they could get thrown some left overs. Benedikt's stomach twitched at the thought. The scrap from this morning was already digested into a spread mist. Emptiness.

  
Especially when the world was blanketed by the familiar scent of home made stew by his mother. Home.

  
[There's only hope when one stays alive, Benni... Stay alive and come home.]

  
Eyes closed together tightly. Water drops followed the thin creases by the corner of his eyes, tracing the sharp and soft edges of his feature until the tip of his nose, escalating, then a drop. Pain and hunger, blurring the multitude images of his past, of home. Benedikt didn't to keep his eyes shut for any longer, he fears for the loss of memory, a family picture of his sister and mother.

  
Or it could be from the longing dizziness within his brain.

  
He wanted to kneel on the ground for just a short break, but there was the other case.

  
The heavy breathing and strong foot steps of horses came nearer and nearer to the corner, Benedikt lifted his eyes with caution, but was only displayed with an eye full of dark chestnut-coloured uniform along with a pair of muddy leather boots. He didn't look up any further, instead he stared hollowly at the horse's strong hooves and the deep muddy puddles.

  
The man on the horse, now stood infront of him. Benedikt felt the touch of leather, held among his neck. Sticky trails of blood was mixed in with the dust and mud across his face. The man forced him to look at him, straight into the emotionless expression.

  
Eyes half lidded, he couldn't catch a glimpse of the other man's appearance, only remembering the stubbles among his chin and those dark pupils beneath the distinctive eyebrows. The man freed his hand, but Benedikt was immediately greeted with the icy foreign touch of metal on his neck. He firstly thought it to be a blade, the realised the thickness of a chain, and a key attached to the middle.

  
Benedikt felt the stained hand upon his cheek again. The strong scent of blood accompanied by the sticky sensation brushed his long fringe back and forth, as if checking a farm animal for faults. When the man took his hand away, a finger brushed away the soft strands of brown hair, again, leaving a trail of blood upon his eyebrow.

  
Three days later, they arrived at Dortmund. Benedikt finally realised the meaning of that chain, still tied around his neck. Other prisoners were still kept with the rest of the army, except him, was taken away on his own. Tired legs dragged their way through multitude unknown streets. Feet ached like fire burning at the bottom. The pack finally stopped in front of the back door of a mansion. The boy was accepted by one of its servant, like a parcel, then thrown into a room with only a rat-hole like window and nothing.

  
He couldn't be bothered to decipher a reason behind all this. The boy was starving, eating the same amount of a rat's dinner, his growing body acting like a baby, unable to maintain under extreme hunger. He didn't give a fuck about manners, being some captured nonsense took away his sense of pride, but the problem was of the emptiness throughout the cells. Noises echoed within the hollow corridors, not even providing him with a chance to beg.

  
Benedikt leaned against the hard concrete wall and took a seat, gazing into the thin line of light within the cracks, hoping for someone to sent over some food. As saying, the man who picked him up from the cells, that was probably some ranked officers in the Dortmund army, wouldn't have brought him here just for the reason to kill him.

  
His hand grabbed onto the cool metal around his neck by conscious, it was as cold and hard as the wall against his back, same as the eyes of that man.

Time passes slowly when one's hungry, that's one realisation for Benedikt today. The boy tried to force himself into sleeping, but that wasn't the case. He waited until the surrounding was quiet, then got to his aching feet and decided to walk around the isolated cell, hoping to fall asleep after wasting all of his energy, then wake up to food by his side.

  
Must have been his lucky day. The scratches of metal against metal followed by a loud clang vibrated in the air as the door opened.

  
The person came in, without wearing an uniform of any kind, probably a servant in the mansion. However it was depressing to see the empty hands, the unmoved lips, only suggesting Benedikt to follow him away.

  
With the comparison with the building's wide exterior, the decorations within seemed overly simple, even old fashioned. This didn't stop Benedikt, even being a country boy he is, to realise the owner's power and title, despite being wealthy.

  
Did the owner think to keep him as a slave or something? Benedikt thought, a sheepish look on his face. It wouldn't be a bad place to stay in anyway.

  
The man infront curved into a quiet corridor, and opened a indistinctive wooden door, but moved aside and made a "welcome" gesture to the boy.

  
Benedikt stood still, a confused look on his face as he contemplated. The servant wasn't annoyed either, he stood still like a tree, the sturdy look from his eyes not connected to Benedikt. He could only walk into the blanket of warmth and dryness from fireplace. The door closed in an instant, startling the boy.

  
A plainly decorated bedroom, except the king-size bed in the middle which looked as it could would be fine for 5 people on top, it made the room see more spacious. However, Benedikt could see nothing else other than a wooden desk next to the fireplace.

  
A basket of breads, and also.... Benedikt swore he saw a pie in the plate aside, buttery pastry scent alluring him forward.

  
The boy nearly sprinted towards the table, he suddenly felt energy running through his body. Hands reached out to the food, but was too scared that his move would be the end of him. Eyeing the food with disire, his body screamed for just the slightest amount of deserved luxury.

  
If I get into trouble, then let it be. Benedikt placed aside his fear, grabbed the soup spoon and began to consume, stuffing his mouth full of food as if it would be the end of an era.

  
This was probably what people called heaven. His mouth moved with trouble, but felt content.

  
"Looks like they forgot to feed you again."

  
Benedikt looked up in an instant, dropping the spoon in his hand and quickly covered his mouth with both hands. A trail of fear vibrated down his back as he searched for the sound.

  
"I defenitely reminded them..." His tone dropped slightly.

  
He found the another door opposing the entrance, hidden beneath layers of curtains. A man, in a black casual gown leaned against the door frame, face seemingly calm.

  
No... Wait a second....

  
Benedikt studied the man's features, eyes locked on each other.

  
The man who chained him....

  
"Come here," the man said, water dripped from the wet curles of his hair, onto his chest which stayed exposed, despite the gown, "finish your work today, and I'll give you everything."  
-

The Höwedes family couldn't really embrace the high class luxuries, but still spoilt Benedikt with a joyful childhood. Over the two years of intense warfare, the boy has learnt to survive without the usual "needs" of his life, throwing aside his pride just in exchange for a bite of fresh food.

  
The boy wiped his greasy hand on the dirty pants nervously as he stepped towards the man.

  
"What would you like me to do sir?" He was glad for a steady voice, while his body trembled.

  
The house owner fell silent. Benedikt could feel the person's eyes on him, as if sizing him up, then the man turned around. "Come in."

  
The boy followed his order and walked in. White tiles blanketed by the floral scent and hot steam. It was a world of mist, it reminded Benedikt of his sister's secret space in the back garden, where the girl dried her well-grown lavender by the window, a beautiful aroma that lingered for days and days—

  
There was sudden pressure against his back. A loud splash in the water.

  
He tried to get up again, but stumbled again onto all fours. The black haired man squatted next to the bath tub, watching the boy. His lips curved with amusement as Benedikt rubbed his eyes clumsily.

  
"Look at your self. There's probably gonna be half a swamp out here, " the man stood up, mumbling some words and placed a navy gown next to the bath tub, "hurry up."

  
Benedikt stopped, a confused look on his face. The man caught him with his rear vision, still walking back to the bedroom, and cringed. "Would you like me to help you?"

  
The boy shook his head in embarrassment, face reddened in a flush as he removed everything except the chains. He grabbed the milk coloured soap by the ledge, the bubbles removing stains, mud, a burning sensation against the cuts along his back. His mind was still filled with questions, but at least it wasn't from some freezing mud puddle.

  
Benedikt was lightly a clean freak, he couldn't help him self but to smile at the satisfying result. Steaming water massaged his skin, soothing each inch of skin and muscle in his body. When the soap rubbed across his scarred back, the boy felt the eyes studying him again, reading through each movement. The silence made him uncomfortable.

  
He moved away his eyes half heartedly, hoping that he could quickly finish and put on some fresh clothes.

  
"We're having beef for dinner today," the black haired man said.

  
So..... Does he need to go and help with the cooking? Benedikt looked up with questions in his eyes, but only seeing the man loosening his black silk gown. The material traced around the man's broad shoulders and slipped onto the wet tiles. He didn't seem to mind, relaxed into the water without a word.

  
"I said, that you'll only get dinner if you finish work today, " the deep voice spoke, palms climbed to Benedikt's slip waist, traced their ways back to the tenderness and gave it a gentle knead.

  
"Sir—" Benedikt nearly let out a disconcerted shriek, but zipped his mouth when the hand around his waist applied some pressure.

  
The man shifted his eyes from the thin lips to his neck, then remained on the freckles at the back of the boy's neck. Lingering sight studied every trace of skin. "My name is Mats."

  
Benedikt has heard of this name before, everyone in then Gelsenkirchen army has. Only because he was a heir of the wealthiest family in Dortmund, signified through that jet black curly hair and the detrimental loss in his homeland's army. Furthermore, a rumour spoke of his fetish towards young boys, often captured from the prisoners, now a truth known by no one but Benediky himself.

  
Mats' hands radiated heat like the water, but Benedikt only felt the trembles of coolness down his spine.

  
"Sir please..." Benedikt moved back. Mats blinked his eyes lethargically and leaned forward. The boy felt an unnatural heat touching against him.

  
"Do I need to teach you basic manners?" Mats' tone remained with its carelessness. The hands still traced along the edges of Benedikt, but with more strength. "What should you answer when people introduce themselves to you? Um?"

  
".......Benedikt," he answered helplessly, a sudden pressure among his waist, "Benedikt Höwedes..."

  
Strangely, Mats smiled. "Benni is much easier." He traced the tip of his nose along the damp crook of the boy's neck.

  
Benedikt only nodded, he couldn't help his trembling self to speak with more confidence. "Sir, may I ask——"

  
Mats lifted his head, hand tugged tightly at the boy's brown hair. Benedikt squirmed at the pain.

  
"Do I need to brand my name on you just to make you say my name? Boy, it's easy."

  
Misty hazel eyes glanced at the Mats, not with tears. He took few deep breaths to recover from the smothering hot steam, and squeezed out the single syllable reluctantly.

  
"See, simple isn't it? Better than the other stupid name at least." His owner was satisfied, finally released his hand and was back along Benediky's neck before he stabilised his breaths.

  
Benedikt wanted to resist. His body melted within the heat, feeling the tingling sensation along his neck that travelled down his veins, the tight skin, and the man's toungue as it lingers around the open wounds. The boy yelped at the strange feeling, which the man took as an encouragement. Mats sucked against the exposed flesh, nurturing the metallic taste from the boy, while Benedikt squirmed in pain under his touch.

  
"The chain, it suits you." Mats spoke, while his finger circled the surrounding flesh of the boy, causing him to flinch. He enjoyed the waves of fear in the bright hazel eyes, smirked and began his hand movement against the part at the boy's lower abdomen.

  
Benedikt closed his eyes in distaste, hands gripped against the slippery edge of the bath, but the stones couldn't take his pain away. He tastes a hint of salt in his mouth, not sure if it was from his tears, or sweat. He embraced the rough movements of Mats in exchange for no comfort but a fire of lust, which awaits him for further intrudes.

  
"Mats...." Benedikt begged again, but he couldn't decipher whether he was asking for him to stop, or to finish his doings. His dick reacted to the touches as predicted, he reached for more as a sign of human instinct, in search for more friction. The boy did know little of sexual intercourse, but the distinct touch caressing his thigh had gave him some shock. Mats looked into his eyes as he pressed one finger gently into his entrance with the help of warm bath water. Benedikt nearly screamed as if his skin burnt under his touch, clenching onto the strangeness inside his body as a reflective move.

  
"It's good...." Mats whispered, he stirred, massaged against that warm tight skin around his finger, encourage the boy to relax. "You're doing fine Benni—"

  
He's overly sure of his ways to discover, despite Benedikt being slightly different to his usual taste. To be honest, he doesn't know why this Gilsenkirchen boy with a freckled cheek has caught his attention. May be he was overworked from war and the society, to end up this recklessly. The poor boy already had to endure the pain and unrealised harshness put towards him.

  
The beautiful sight in front of him was quite surprising. His unique structure wasn't affected by the fear on his face. Slim body perfectly displayed with the slender legs of the boy. But the slashes and bruises across his back captured Mats' sight, as they glowed wildly beaneath the light.

 

He wanted to bite, to taste the flesh beaneath such captivating sight. Mats grinned, his toungue teased over Bendikt's ear, nibbling gently. "I'd put that thing down Benni." Benedikt froze, but his hand still gripped tightly to the bottle.

 

"You'll need to find something heavier if you want to kill me, it's my favourite one too. Don't ruin it." Mats breathed into his ear, his hand now pulled away from its warmth, was replaced with a sudden thrust.

 

TBC

 

 


End file.
